Some days after them Indians left, I asked my daddy why, if he was killin' Indians in them wars, he got so Irish when them other soldiers was doin' them so bad. That questioned me when I seen him Irish at how them Indians was bein' done, but I knew that wasn't the time to ask him nothin'. I had to let him get over his sad and his Irish. So, when I seen he was done with them things, I asked him, "Daddy, how come you got so Irish when them Indians was bad treated and you was killin' Indians yourself when you was a Colonel."
I didn't get an answer right then. I got a talkin' to about proper talkin'. Daddy said he reckoned I was going to use range talk when I was with the cowboys and my friends but he thought that when Paco and I were talking to him, we ought to use proper talk. He said he'd been thinking on it and he decided that was the best way to be sure that Paco and I were learning proper English.
I reckon that was fair. I already told you I liked the way my daddy talked and when we were talkin' to him, it didn't seem to take as much thinkin' to say things right. With Daddy talkin' right, what I said just seemed to come out of my mouth right.
So, I asked him again, "Daddy, why did you get so upset about how those Indians were bein' treated when you killed Indians yourself when you were in the army?"
Daddy smiled and messed up my hair. "That's not an easy question to answer, Sam. I know what those stories say about me but I never did like having to kill folks. But I was young. I hadn't had time to think through some things. I'm not sure what I'd do now if I were faced with the same decision. I had a skill and there seems to be times that you have to use it if you want to or not.
"White folks were going to live in Texas. Nothing could stop that. They were taking Indian land and, of course, the Indians tried to stop them. The Indians had a long tradition of fighting among themselves and of determining their bravery by the number of men they killed. They were, and still are, hard for me to understand. Indians viewed the value of life differently than we did. In their thinking killing an enemy was honorable and making that enemy suffer by taking or destroying his property was just another way to show bravery. To most Indians, a man's family - his wife and children - were his property, so killing or stealing them was no different in their thinking than stealing his horse. I have known enough Indians to know that, individually, they are not cruel. But for thousands of years they had developed a way of thinking that was cruel according to the way we look at things.
"It became obvious that whites and Indians could never live together. Whites were killing Indians and Indians were killing whites. It didn't take long to see that the whites were going to win and I had the skills to put an end to the fighting and stop the killing. Stopping the killing took more killing but, then, it seemed the only way. We fought the Indians and moved them out of Texas. There are Indians and white folks living today who wouldn't be if we didn't fight those wars. I kept telling myself that I was fighting so that folks could stop fighting."
"But Daddy, that doesn't make sense - killin' some folks so some other folks won't get killed. How did you decide which ones to kill and which ones to let live?"
"Don't try to understand it, son. There is never any sense to war or fighting. I did a lot of it and I never did understand why I was doin' it."
Like I told you, my daddy don't talk range talk very much but when he does, he's tellin' you somethin'. I think he was tellin' me now that he had enough of talkin' on wars and fightin' and killin'. You saw that he didn't like to think on it. I didn't ask him any more and every time I try to think out killin' to stop killin' and fightin' to stop fightin', I reckon I must think the same as he does. No sense on it comes to me.
Things get kind of dull in the winter on the Bent-Y. It gets dark early and everybody has homework and after eatin', it's really too cold to play outside. Daddy was tellin' me and Paco that up north, younguns play outside when the creeks freeze over. Some Texas younguns like playin' out in the cold but, if you ask me, that cold froze their brains and made them dumb. Daddy said that the ice gets so thick in the ponds and creeks up north that folks can walk on them. He said that them younguns have a special kind of boots with pointy bottoms and they scoot around real fast on that thick ice.
We get ice about twice a year but if somebody tries to walk on it, he's gonna be up to his ass in ice water. Unless we're goin' to school or to our chores, me and Paco don't go anywhere near them doors in the winter and we don't even think about playin' outside in them ice times.
I got to be outside when I'm goin' to school and when I'm goin' to my chorin' but I don't like it none. Daddy seen to it that me and Paco had real warm coats, but I remember too many of them winters when I didn't have nothin' but britches and I got to hate the cold. If you think about how Paco was feelin', all bare-assed in that cold, I reckon you can figure out how he thinks on winter.
Another thing about winter, our daddy and our uncles are always goin' off to Austin or Dallas or San Antonio or Santa Fe and even to San Francisco for doin' business. They say the winter is the best time for them to be away 'cause there ain't much happenin' on the Bent-Y then. It looks to me and Paco that, as far as our daddy bein' gone, the winter ain't no different than the summer. As far as we're concerned, there ain't never no good time for him to be gone.
Ling Pau's gettin' some good with her English and she mostly takes care of us when Daddy's gone. If we talk back to her or give her any other kind of trouble, she tells Aunt Lydia and Aunt Lydia don't yell at us or hit us but she gets across the idea that we better don't give Ling Pau no more trouble. Ling Pau's fine, I reckon. She just ain't our daddy and me and Paco can't help it. We're just some mad when our daddy ain't here.
There's never no more than two of them Flynn brothers gone from the Bent-Y at the same time. When Daddy's gone, Uncle Kevin's usually here. Uncle Kevin is pretty good at knowin' when we're really missin' our daddy and he spends time with us or he has us sleep over with Danny. He ain't one for too much huggin' but if me or Paco look real sad from missin' our daddy, Uncle Kevin will hug on us some. That huggin' feels good and we like Uncle Kevin real good, but he ain't our daddy. Uncle Brian's all right too but Uncle Kevin's more like our daddy and he does a better job on our feelings than Uncle Brian even though Uncle Brian tries real hard, do he be the only Flynn there.
Me and Paco know we're gonna have to learn to feel safe when our daddy's gone. We know we're gonna have to learn better how to love someone who ain't right there. We know we gotta learn that stuff. We just don't want to learn it yet. We ain't had a daddy that long.
One Saturday mornin' in early spring, we was havin' breakfast at Uncle Kevin's. It was one of them nights when Uncle Kevin decided me and Paco needed family and not just them Chinamen, so we had slept with Danny. We like it at Danny's. Katy's just about all over her uppity. I already told you, she ain't done it to Paco for a long time and she don't do it to me at all no more. She just does it once in a while to her mama and almost all the time to Danny, but then, he does it to her so I reckon she needs to be uppity with him. Daddy says that's how brothers and sisters are, but Rosie and Spike ain't that way and Virgil and Sarah ain't that way and Ho Tau and Ching Lu are only some that way. When we told our daddy that, he said that he reckoned that Katy and Danny had more Irish in them than the others.
Anyway, Katy's almost nice now. She's still learnin' Paco all kinds of things. She's real smart and she can learn you things better than Miss Tuthill, but then, Miss Tuthill ain't got her mind on teachin'. You can tell, she's all the time thinkin' on Clay Bronson.
We was all done eatin', just sittin' there, talkin' and laughin', when someone knocked on the parlor door. Now, in them ranch houses, there ain't never nobody uses them parlors. I ain't even sure what they're for but they got a lot of fancy chairs and stuff like that and nobody can go in them.
Ki Tuan went to see who the hell was tryin' to get into Uncle Kevin's parlor. Pretty soon she came back and said, "The Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate to see Mr. Kevin."
Uncle Kevin went into the parlor and you could hear him talkin' some but you couldn't tell what he was sayin'. You couldn't tell what that other man was sayin' either but for some cause I didn't like the sound of his voice. I didn't know why, but it was givin' me a mad. I didn't have no time to think on my mad very long because Uncle Kevin come back to the kitchen and said, "I'd like all of you to come into the parlor with me."
I thought, "By damn! I'm gonna get to go into a parlor." It was the first time. Daddy don't even let us go into ours.
I reckon I was some excited about goin' into that parlor but when I got in there, I wished I was anywhere else in the whole world. It turned out that the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate was that damn preacher man. He was sittin' on one of them fancy chairs, all dressed up, lookin' like he thought he was Jesus Christ or somethin'.
We all come in and sat down in them fancy chairs and that damn preacher man was sayin' his howdies like he was a prince and all the rest of us was kings. I knew that son-a-bitch was up to somethin'. I knew how he really was and it wasn't all smooth and friendly like he was bein' now.
He looked right at me and I seen right off that he didn't know me. Then, somethin' funny happened. I was scared when I walked into that parlor and seen who was in there, but then, I reckon, it come to me who I was and I didn't feel nothin' about that damn preacher man but disgust. He made me sick but he didn't scare me no more. I tried to act just like he did when he howdied me. I used my best manners and my best proper talk. I bowed like Daddy told me and Paco to and I said, "Very pleased to meet you, Sir." That's what I said but I was thinkin', "Go to hell, you son-a-bitch!"
The Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate started to tell us that the Lord had led him to come to see the Flynns today. "You see", he said, "God is going to use the Flynns to do mighty things for His glory."
He asked did the Flynns know about his ministry with the poor, dear, castoff waifs and orphans of north Texas and how God was usin' him to lead many of them little lost souls into the glory of eternal life. He told us that almost every day one of them "dear little ones" was saved from their sinning ways and joined the blood-washed throng. He talked and he talked about what a good man he was and how good all those poor, dear, castoff waifs and orphans was bein' took care of. When he talked like that for about a hour, he finally got to the point.
The Flynn bank in Goodnight held a note on his house and his land and the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate just knew that God was leading the Flynns to burn that note so those poor, dear, castoff waifs and orphans could continue to have a good, Christian up-bringing. All the time he was sayin' them things, Uncle Kevin was lookin' at me. I winked at him and he knew that I remembered who that son-a-bitch was.
I couldn't believe how that damn preacher man done God. To my daddy, God was who you learned from, who was like your teacher when it come to how you done other folks. To my daddy, God was like a daddy and from Daddy, I had come to think good on God.
To that damn preacher man, God wasn't no daddy. He was just somethin' you used to get other folks to do what you wanted. It come to me that if God was wantin' that damn preacher man to keep that orphanage, maybe that's why folks give money that that damn preacher man just spent on hisself. Maybe God was thinkin' that damn preacher man should have been payin' off the Goodnight Bank instead of buyin' clothes he didn't need and fancy horses and rigs. It come to me that I didn't know how the hell that damn preacher man would ever know what God wanted. His head was too full of what he wanted.
When that damn preacher man was done tellin' Uncle Kevin what God said the Flynns was supposed to do, he just sit there with that look them Christians get that makes you want to puke. They get a look that's part smile and part kindness and part love but when you get to know them Christians, you know it's all bull-shit.
Uncle Kevin said, "Both my brothers, Seamus and Brian, are in Santa Fe on business. A decision of this type is usually a family decision and since my brothers aren't here, I think we should at least hear what Seamus' son has to say on the matter."
The Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate got all gushy again. "Oh, yes, we have all heard of the wonderful work that Seamus Flynn had done to rid north Texas of outlaws and heathen Indians. I have never had the privilege of meeting him but I hold him up to God every night in my personal prayers. Which of these fine young men is the son of the famous Seamus Flynn? He looked at me and Danny. When his eyes passed Paco he got a look of disgust on his face.
I seen that Uncle Kevin was toyin' with that damn preacher man. He made a point of introducin' only Paco and he let that damn preacher man think he was gonna have to listen to a papist greaser. You seen that the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate was tryin' to be nice to Paco but it just wasn't in him. Paco didn't say nothin' but you could tell he was havin' fun inside him. He was givin' that damn preacher man the same kind of disgusted look that he was gettin'.
The Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate couldn't bring hisself to talk to Paco. He said, "Perhaps I should return when your brothers are here. He got up and started to leave when Uncle Kevin said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted to meet both of Shay's sons. Sam, here," Uncle Kevin pointed at me, "is the one I think may have some thoughts on this matter."
That damn preacher man got that bull-shit look on his face again and went to bein' real smooth again. "What was it you wanted to say, young man?"
That damn preacher man was lookin' right at me but he still didn't know me and I seen that this was gonna be fun. I had seen Aunt Lydia's and Aunt Jenny's preacher man on the place and I knew that they called him Brother Freeman. I figured that's what you call preachers. I got a real serious look on my face and I said, "Brother Fugate, my daddy is very concerned about proper Christian learning. If my daddy were here, he would want to know about baptism. Do you see that these children are properly baptized?"
"Oh, yes. I know you folks are Baptists and hold with the immersion mode. We use the pouring mode, but praise the Lord, He's so good. He accepts all modes of Baptism. Don't you agree, Brother Flynn?"
Uncle Kevin got a twinkle in his eye. "Mrs. Flynn is Baptist. I'm Roman Catholic and I'm not much of an expert on baptism. It was Sam's question. Ask him."
When Uncle Kevin said he was Catholic, I swear that damn preacher man took on the same color as that Captain when he seen who my daddy was. He kind of choked on his words for a minute but he finally got out, "Was there anything you wished to know, young man?"
I said, "Yes. I have another question about the modes of baptism." I had already asked Uncle Kevin real quiet what mode meant. He said, kinds. "How many modes are there?"
That damn preacher man said, "Well, son. That's a very good question. I'm pleased that someone so young has such serious thoughts about the Lord. There is immersion such as your Aunt's church uses. There's pouring such as we use and some churches use sprinkling."
"Is that all?" I asked
"I believe so, son. Those are the only modes of baptism of which I am aware."
I was havin' a awful time keepin' from laughin' but I tried to take a mean look on my face. "You didn't say nothin' about shit. What about them you baptize with shit?"
When I said that that damn preacher man almost fell off that fancy chair. I looked at Uncle Kevin and he was almost fallin' off his chair too, but he was doin' it from tryin' to keep from laughin'. That damn preacher man tried to talk but it sounded like someone was chokin' him. He gagged and sputtered and finally got out, "That story is not true. I know it's been told all over the county by some of the bra....uh ... dear children who have grown to the age at which they need to learn the value of work and have been placed in fine Christian homes to get that experience. I have been told that several of them have told that story. I do not know why they are lying like that. I assure you, that story is not true."
This had stopped being fun. That son-a-bitch wasn't only mean, he was a damn liar. I stood and walked over to him and put my face right in his. "You're a goddam liar, Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate. Take a good look at me. What you're lookin' at is that whore's bastard you put in that shithouse pit and who you shit on. You're lookin' at the whore's bastard who you made carry two buckets of shit that were heavier than he was and he was only seven years old. You're lookin' at that shit-covered poor, dear, castoff waif and orphan who you let out of that pit just as that big red-headed cowboy come ridin' up. And I got some news for you. You have met Seamus Flynn. He was the one who was knockin' you down and you was so goddam dumb, you just kept gettin' up and lettin' him do it again. You're lookin' at the shit covered poor, dear, castoff waif and orphan whose daddy took him off to the pump and bathed him and told you that if you ever done anything like that to another youngun, he'd kill you." I said all them things so he'd know for sure I was there when it happened. I said to him, "You're lookin' at Sam Martin, you goddam preacher man son-a-bitch."
That damn preacher man just passed out.
Uncle Kevin laughed and Aunt Lydia didn't even scold me for cussin'. She sent Katy to get some water to get that damn preacher man from his passin' out.
Paco looked out the window and seen some younguns in that damn preacher man's buckboard. He said, "It's too cold for them to be sittin' out there all this time. I'm gettin' them in here." Paco and Danny run out after them.
There was four of them. I knew them all but you seen they didn't know me. One of them was named Travis Bucknell and him and me slept in the same bed when I was livin' at that orphanage. They was all some older than me and I reckon they was bein' "let out."
At first them Home younguns wouldn't get out of that buckboard. They said that that damn preacher man told them to sit right there and not get out of that buckboard. Paco yelled at me, "Sam, get these poor, dear, castoff waifs and orphans in the goddam house." Aunt Lydia didn't let that one go by. When Paco come in she grabbed his shoulder and talked real hard right at his face about not cussin'.
I called from the house, "Travis Bucknell, get your skinny ass in here. I don't reckon that the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate's gonna do any more beatin'. Bring that Susan Farrell and that Maud Beach and that Jimmy Yeats with you or this whore's bastard is gonna have to come out there and pull your goddam ears like them fat lady Christians do."
When them Home younguns got into the house, they acted real scared. They all looked real hard at me and Travis asked, "Is that really you, Sam?" I didn't get a chance to answer. That damn preacher man was wakin' up from his passin' out. He was still sittin' on the floor, lookin' kind of dazed but when he seen them home younguns in the house, he didn't think where he was and he said, "You ungrateful brats were told to stay in that buckboard. Now, get on back out there before I cane some obedience into you."
I said, "Ya, Travis. You ain't got no goddam marks on you at all. The only time you don't get beat is when you're about to be let out so folks won't know what's goin' on in that damn orphanage. But, Travis, I sure as hell don't want you spoiled. You and me are friends. We used to sleep in the same bed. Hell, we used to sleep in each other's piss. I love you Travis. I don't want you spoiled and you know what the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate always says. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child'. You're about due for a good canin'."
I heard myself talkin' but it didn't feel like it was me sayin' it. It felt like a whore's bastard. That damn preacher man was doin' it to me again. He was makin' me be somethin' I wasn't. He was takin' Sam Flynn out of me and puttin' a whore's bastard in there instead. I was about to cry. I wanted Aunt Lydia to make me stop. I didn't think I could do it myself.
She done it but she done it real gentle. She hugged me and said, "Sam, you've had a lot of meanness and hate in your life. This hypocrite has brought all those terrible memories of hate and fear back on you. I let you give him his comeuppance because he needed it and you needed to do it. But, Sam, hate doesn't have to be part of you anymore. You're loved here. You know how to live with love. You have to be the one who chooses whether hate or love decides what you do. That awful man doesn't control you, Sam. You do."
She kissed me and hugged me real tight. I put my face in her chest and cried. She was right. I knew both love and hate and love felt so much better. I knew I still had some things that I needed to say to that preacher man but I knew that it wasn't gonna be hate that picked out my words.
Them Home younguns seen that but I didn't care. Probably the first tenderness they ever seen in their lives. When Travis got done bein' so surprised that he could talk again, he asked, "Sam, how did you come to live here? You been let out or somethin'?"
"No, Travis. Do you remember that big red-headed cowboy that took me away from that preacher man?'
Travis shook his head.
"It turned out that he was my real daddy. It turned out that he was Seamus Flynn."
All them younguns gasped and started lookin' around. They had heard them Seamus Flynn stories and they believed them. They was scared of Seamus Flynn.
Paco seen they was scared and he said, "He ain't here but I wish he was. All them stories you hear don't really tell you nothin' about him. He's my daddy too and he decided to be my daddy when I was nothin' but a bare-assed, skinny stinkin' greaser bastard. Some things about them Seamus Flynn stories are true. He's tough but he's the most kindest man that's got the most love of anybody you could think of."
"What's gonna happen to us?" Maud Beach asked that question.
Aunt Lydia was quick with an answer. "You'll stay on the Bent-Y until we can get this straightened out with the law. I'll take some ladies from our church over to see that things are done right."
That preacher man started to get up. "Now see here, I'm in charge of that Home. These brats are my court wards. You...."
Uncle Kevin had fire in his eyes. "I may not be Seamus, but I'm a Flynn. You sit back down there on that floor or, I swear to God, I'll knock you down myself." That was the kind of talk Danny liked. He looked real proud of his daddy when he said that.
Uncle Kevin wasn't done talkin'. "You may be the court guardian of these children but you have no place to keep them. The Flynns are calling in your note and I know you don't have the money, so we're taking the building and the land. You tell me what judge will allow you to remain guardian when you have no place to keep the children?"
That preacher man started to say something but then he seen it was no use and just looked at the floor. Aunt Lydia was all fussed like she gets when she's takin' charge of somethin'. "Katy, you go get Jenny and tell her we're going to the Children's Home right now. Danny, fetch Ki Tuan so I can tell her what to do while I'm gone. Paco, you go fetch Clay Brunson. He can ride to the close-by folks and get those other church ladies on their way to the Home. Kevin, do you think Shay would mind if I took Ling Pau.... Oh, no. She'll have to stay here because some of these children will want to sleep with Sam at Shay's. He's the only one they know here. Katy, I was going to take you but you will have to stay here with....oh, these girls. Sorry, girls I can't remember your names. Maureen, you go get Sarah Whiticher, and get her mama too. She'll want to help."
Things was happenin' so fast them home kids was just standin' there with their mouths open. They was slowly gettin' the idea that things was gonna get better for them but they were like Paco when he first come to be my brother. Things was so bad for so long, they thought they was just born to bad happenin's.
Jimmy Yeats was actin' for a long time like he wanted to say somethin' but looked like he was scared to. I said to him, "Talk, Jimmy, if you got somethin' to say. Nobody gets cuffed around here for sayin' what they want to say.
Jimmy looked at that preacher man and he looked at Uncle Kevin. Uncle Kevin nodded, tellin' Jimmy what I said was right. Jimmy looked at that preacher man again and he seen that that preacher man didn't have nothin' to do with him no more. Jimmy said, "I ain't tryin' to do no sinnin' by questionin' the will of God but I got a big worry on me about my brother, Johnny. He's ten and he's real shy and he's had me by him all his life. He cried and cried when I got let out. If y'all let me take him with me, I'll work twice as hard. I promise."
"Where did you ever get the idea that you were sinning by asking a question?"
I told Aunt Lydia what that preacher man was always tellin' them younguns and I thought for a minute I was lookin' at my daddy when he was Irish. I don't remember everything that she said to that preacher man but he knew he'd heard somethin' when she got done. The only part I remember was somethin' about his filthy rags self-righteousness was stinkin' up her house.
When she got done tellin' that preacher man, she said to Jimmy, "You stay here tonight. I'll tell Johnny you're all right and I'll tell him that whatever happens, you two will be together. I'd take you back with me but the buckboard will be full and I think you'll enjoy stayin' with Sam and Paco. Don't worry, son. Johnny will be fine."
She gave Jimmy a little hug and went right on bossin' everybody. Jimmy just stood there and cried. That was probably the first time in his life that anybody ever hugged him.
I wasn't wantin' to do it but I knew I had to do something about that preacher man. I had gotten to where I let my daddy help me take care of my hard problems but he wasn't here. This was my hurt and my job to take care of it. I knew that's what my daddy would want me to do. Uncle Kevin knew that too. I seen he was waitin' for me to finish with that preacher man.
I walked back into the parlor. Them Home younguns followed me. That preacher man seen me comin' and said, "I forgot you were in there."
I was havin' to work hard at it but I wasn't gonna let hate make me a whore's bastard again. I don't think it was love that was runnin' me 'cause I still had a strong disgust for that preacher man. But what was gonna be said was gonna be said my way, not how what he did made me say it.
"It really doesn't make any difference if you did that on purpose or not. You did it and you've been lying about it ever since. It comes to me that it just isn't fittin' for such a fine Christian as you to be associating with such an evil influence as the son of a harlot. In fact, it doesn't seem fittin' for you to be in the same state as that evil influence. You said that my daddy did good by running out the outlaws and Indians. When he knows what I know and what these other poor, dear, castoff waifs and orphans know about the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate, he'll be willin' to rid north Texas of one mean, selfish, child-beating liar. If I was the Reverend Doctor Lowell Fugate, I'd get on that buckboard and get out of Texas real fast. But while I was goin', I'd be holdin' Seamus Flynn up to God 'cause by runnin' you out of Texas, he'd be doin' his best work. Uncle Kevin, this man isn't no Christian. He's a mean, selfish liar and either he leaves the Bent-Y right now, or I do." I walked out of the room.
I heard Uncle Kevin say in a real stern voice, "What does the Bible say, Preacher? Something about 'out of the mouths of babes?' I think the boy gave you some very good advice. I don't think it would be wise for you to let Seamus find you in Texas when he gets back."
That preacher man got up, picked up his hat, walked out the door, got on his buckboard and nobody in north Texas ever heard of him again.
Them ladies from Aunt Lydia's church was give the right by the judge to run that home. They made a Board. It wasn't no wood board. It was them ladies and some of them men from that church that seen that Home was run right. They brought in a man and his wife from Kansas City to run the Home and he's good to them younguns. He feeds that right and he don't just have them fat lady Christians there but he has folks who can teach them boys and girls trades and if they are let out, that Board sees to it that they are treated right.
All them Home younguns stay in school now until they finish the eighth grade. If they do good and if they want to, that Home has a house now in Amarillo where them younguns can stay while they're goin' to high school. If they do real good there, they get a Flynn Scholarship to go to College.
My daddy is real proud of me because that Flynn Scholarship was my idea. I asked my daddy whatever happened to that poke money. He said it was bein' good took care of. I asked him, "You reckon some of them Home younguns should be goin' to college and not just fixin' shoes or somethin'? You say I got a lot more in San Francisco. Let me use that poke money for them ones that ought to be goin' to college."
I reckon Daddy took some of my money but all them Flynn brothers liked my idea. They set up the Samuel Martin Flynn Scholarship Fund. Makes me feel good. None of it's been used yet, but it's there when some of them Home younguns are ready for college.